


Old Plan

by Melodious329



Series: Rentboy [3]
Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Rentboy, and Cliche</p><p>Chris is having a hard time understanding why he's moving into Steve's house, and Steve is having a hard time keeping his hands off Chris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I neither own nor know the real persons after whom these characters are created

Sitting now in the car again, Steve pulls out his phone. He can’t help but laugh a little as he thinks that it’s this tiny device that is at fault for the kid sitting in his passenger seat. Chris is looking out the window at the scenery passing by, but Steve can tell he’s nervous. He’s pulled the cuffs of the sweatshirt down over his hands and is worrying the material, small fingers curled over the edges. Steve can’t blame him though, for all Chris knows he could be an axe murderer, but he supposes Chris was willing to take the chance for a better life.

Steve makes the call quietly. He never wanted to be famous, he just wanted to make music and to have other people appreciate it, but right now it’s very helpful. In a few hours when the press notices him hanging out with a very young man, it won’t be though.

“So,” Chris’s voice, hard in defensiveness, jolts Steve out of his musings. “What exactly do you do that gives you enough money to own a person for sex?”

Steve looks heavenward briefly to keep his anger in check. He’s pretty sure that Chris doesn’t really think that he’s signed up to be a sex slave, kept naked and collared all the time or something, but he can’t really blame the kid for being nervous. Especially since Steve is now thinking how great it would be to collar Chris, or keep him naked…

“I’m a musician,” Steve says. Glancing at the kid’s face, Steve sees a spark in the boy’s cold crystal eyes before Chris is looking back out the window again.

“Oh,” Chris says noncommittally.

Steve is debating how to follow up on that response when he pulls into the store’s parking lot. The store is shut down so that they won’t be disturbed and as soon as they step into the store, Steve pushes the kid into the arms of a saleswoman who is all-too-eager to outfit Chris in jeans, artfully distressed tshirts, sweaters, button-downs, and even boxer-briefs and sleep pants. And shoes. It’s really one stop shopping, and Chris is obviously far too overwhelmed to bitch.

Even back in the car, Chris seems stunned and looks at Steve with a kind of horrified fascination, realizing now exactly what he’s getting into. And then they’re entering the gated community where Steve lives.

Steve doesn’t live in a mansion, doesn’t need it, but he does now need the security of gates even though he’s not Britney Spears or anything. But he loves his house. It’s open and light with wood accents, two stories with a finished basement. And the best part is that it’s on a secluded beach just for this community with a pool and grill area out the back door.

“What the fuck?” Chris blurts out as they get out of the car in the garage. “So you’re like a movie star?!”

Steve grabs the bag and ushers the kid inside with a smile. “No, I’m a musician, and a producer who owns a record label and a recording studio.”

Chris grumbles and crosses his arms, looking small and young and frightened in the middle of the large living room.

“Hey,” Steve says gently. Dropping the clothes bags by the couch, he grabs the kid’s elbow and leads him towards the stairs. “We’ll wash those today, but you can wear some of my sleep clothes to be more comfortable. We’ll just hang out in the house today.”

Chris seems relieved to have Steve close again, to have Steve directing him again in this new and isolated environment. Steve takes him up to the guest bedroom across from his own room, telling himself it’s not to torture himself with what he can’t have, but to keep an eye on the kid.

“This’ll be your room. We can change whatever you want, get new sheets, new furniture, you can put whatever you want on the walls and it has its own bathroom through that door.” Steve points but can’t help noticing Chris becoming agitated again, the kid setting his jaw as Steve moves away.

“So what?” Chris asks crossly. “I get my own room and free run of the house as long as I have sex with you and don’t leave the property, is that it?”

“What? No. This isn’t…you can do whatever you want,” Steve tries.

“What the fuck!” Chris cries. “You just take me home…I was just trying to survive and now, I’m just going to be stuck here!”

“You will go to school,” Steve interrupts. “Or get a job that I will help you to find.” He stops and takes out the money that he picked up while they were shopping and places it on the dresser to the side. “That’s a thousand dollars just for you even if you want to leave. I will give you money for cabfare when you want to go somewhere until I have taught you to drive and you have proven to be responsible for a car. You’re not a prisoner here, if you have friends or family you want to visit…”

Chris’s snort is answer enough and Steve nods. “I’m going to get you some clothes.” He leaves Chris standing there, his arms crossed again, looking around the room but not touching anything. Hopefully it’ll just take time.

Coming back with a pair of sleep pants and a tshirt, Steve hands them over. “Get dressed and then come back outside.”

Steve closes the door to what is now Chris’s bedroom and then goes to his own room, changing into fresh jeans and a worn tshirt himself. He’s finished just in time to be in the hallway when Chris comes back out, dressed in the pants and the sweatshirt again though it’s not cold in the middle of the day. Chris is also holding his old clothes.

“If you want to keep those, you can put them in a drawer, or if not, we can just throw them out,” Steve suggests. Chris looks at them for a minute before going back inside to put them in the drawers of the dresser.

When he comes back out, Steve wants to pull the kid in close to his side, his arm around Chris’s shoulders. He wants to kiss all over the kid’s face to make Chris laugh. But he is trying to keep his distance so he just places a hand on the small of Chris’s back. He can’t help but notice the way Chris’s ass looks in his loose pants, however. Godammit this is gonna be hard.

“Ok, so short tour of necessary places. This is my room,” Steve points, “And then the stairs are over here. Take the stairs down and we’re in the living room. To the right is the kitchen, feel free to help yourself to food or drink or…”

“Beer?” Chris says with a smirk.

“Beer only when I’m joining you,” Steve says, smiling back. He thinks it’s pretty useless to keep alcohol out of the hands of a teen who was selling his body for sex. Shit, should he get Chris a therapist? Chris’ll need a doctor, and a checkup and health insurance, teeth cleaning probably...does he need to get Chris’s medical records?

“Man, is that the backyard?” Chris says moving away a little but not out of Steve’s touch. Steve shakes off his rising anxiety and smiles as he pushes Chris over to the glass doors that lead out on the deck.

“Yep, swimming pool, patio, grill, and the beach,” he says proudly. He feels even more proud as he watches Chris stare outside like he’s a kid on Christmas morning.

“Wanna go out on the beach?” Steve offers then looks down at Chris’s feet, or more at the extra length of cotton pooling over Chris’s bare feet. Chris is a couple inches shorter than Steve but he could still grow.

Chris just bends down and starts rolling up the excess til they’re like shorts. Steve smiles and opens the doors not bothering to roll up his own jeans.

Watching Chris’s reaction to his backyard setup has Steve’s heart swelling in his chest, not just because he can give this to Chris, but because Chris seems to like what Steve likes. This whole thing is so stupid, Steve can’t even understand what he’s done, taking on the life and welfare of another person not knowing a thing about what the kid even likes, but he realizes now that he wants to like the kid, he wants Chris to like him.

When they get on the beach, it’s obvious Chris just wants to run out into the waves, but doesn’t because of Steve for some reason. So Steve runs into them first, his jeans clinging to his legs as they get wet. Chris follows, a grin splitting his face, and immediately falls to his knees on the uneven sand, laughing as he’s completely soaked.

Steve tries to give him a hand up, but ends up on his ass. Which surprises Steve so much his mouth is open when the next wave hits him in the face. And Chris only laughs harder and doesn’t bother trying to get out of the water, just jumps up a little over each small wave.

After a moment though, the laughter dies down and Chris ducks his head under the water and they just float a minute, Chris’s face calm and contemplative and kinda content. Steve likes the look but soon the sun is dipping near the horizon and a chill forms in the air. It’d be just his luck to give the kid pneumonia or something, so he tugs on the kid’s arm and says, “Hey, let’s go in before it gets cold.”

Chris nods and they head out of the water. Steve feels like his wet jeans are trying to drag him down again, but it’s nothing compared to Chris. The water-clogged sweatshirt is now hanging practically down to his knees and the kid is holding the waist of Steve’s sleep pants up, the bottoms dragging through the sand. Chris literally looks like a wet five year old.

This isn’t the first time Steve and friends have gone swimming in their clothes and by the pool is a chest with towels. They strip out of their pants and wrap the towels around their waists before heading inside.

Steve can’t help putting a hand back on Chris’s back as he leads them back through the house. “Ok, let me get you some more dry clothes, and we can both get showers. Then I’ll run your new clothes through the washer and make some dinner.”

Steve lets go of Chris’s back to go into his room but he can’t help looking back to see a small happy smile on Chris’s face. Maybe this is going to work out after all.

He brings Chris another pair of pants and a t-shirt and sweatshirt and a pair of socks, in case, and tells Chris that there are toiletries and toothbrushes and things in the ensuite bathroom. Then he leaves him to it to take his own shower.

During the course of his own shower, however, Steve’s thoughts stay on Chris, his dick rising in response. He bites his lip on a groan as he thinks of fucking Chris on every surface in this house and on the beach as he strokes himself.

Chris is waiting for him in the hallway, dressed and mostly dry and anxious. They end up on the backyard patio, grilling a couple steaks, the clothes churning away in the washer. There’s a salad on the table and the sun is setting over the water and Chris looks peaceful again though he keeps eyeing the steak hungrily.

Steve fills the silence with talk of business, of his music and his studio and the other artists he has signed. Chris’s interest is definitely piqued, Steve can tell as the kid listens raptly and moans around a mouthful of steak.

“Tomorrow you can come to the studio with me, see how it runs,” Steve offers and waits for Chris’s eager nod before continuing. “Maybe that’s what you want to do, music?”

Chris licks the grease off his full lips and looks down uncomfortably. “Yeah, maybe,” Chris shrugs and looks up, looks for judgment on Steve’s face. “I used to play some guitar, sing a little.”

“Yeah? You interested in writing songs?” Steve asks.

Chris nods again. “Great,” Steve says. “I’ve got plenty of guitars and we can try to write together or I know plenty of people. Maybe you can still go to school but if music’s what you want to do…?”

Chris looks sheepish as he answers, “Yeah, I always…I want to, want to do music. Country music.”

Steve’s smile gets even wider as he hears that. The thought of this kid as a country singer is adorable and Steve would love to be involved in a project that’s influenced by the old southern rock that he grew up on.

They put their dishes in the dishwasher even though Steve has a maid and Steve leads the kid over to the tv area. Steve sits in an armchair while Chris sits on the couch and it’s uncomfortably similar to the night before. But Steve doesn’t give either of them time to think about it, simply flipping through the channels before coming to the movie “Die Hard”.

Chris sits stiffly at first but soon is sprawled across the couch and soon after that his eyelids are too heavy for him to keep up. Laughing softly, Steve gives the kid a hand up and turns off the tv, shepherding the kid back upstairs with an arm around Chris’s shoulders. They have to be at the studio early anyway.

Chris wakes up as Steve pushes him inside the room though. “We’re not going in your room?” he asks, sleepy and confused.

Confused himself, Steve says, “No, this one’s your room.”

“I know,” Chris says like Steve is completely stupid. “But I thought we’d fuck in your room. Isn’t that how this works? Or is mine the fucking room?”

“What?!” Steve says exasperated. “There is no fucking room. This is your room, where you live and dress and sleep and whatever. And I do the same in my room.”

“If we’re not fucking, what the fuck am I doing here?!” Chris cries out.

“You’re living here, Chris. Look, I don’t know. I just…you needed help and I could help you, ok? I didn’t expect for all this to happen!” Steve knew as soon as the words are out of his mouth that he shouldn’t have raised his voice no matter how upset Chris gets.

“Fine. I’ll be gone tomorrow. Good night,” Chris says sharply before the door slams in Steve’s face. But that’s not the end of the sounds for tonight.

Steve listens, a hand gripping either side of the door frame as Chris cries in his room then screams. There’s the sound of more than one thing breaking, possibly the mirror, possibly the window. Steve is trying to figure out what was in there that was breakable when the sounds finally stop. Looking down at his bare feet, he goes to his room to put on a pair of sneakers before coming back to Chris’s room.

Upon opening the door, the scene is total devastation. The dresser had had a mirror which is now broken and, in fact, the whole thing is on its front. He can also see shattered glass on the floor of the bathroom, but thankfully the window’s intact.

Chris himself is lying on the bed in the fetal position looking towards the door, eyes big and defiant and afraid and dejected. The kid is just sitting up, opening his mouth, red and bee-stung looking lips from his emotional outburst, when Steve walks over the broken furniture and pulls the kid over one shoulder.

Steve is expecting Chris to struggle and gets a good grip on one arm and then around the back of the kid’s knees. Also fortunately, it’s a short trip across the hall.

“What the fuck!” Chris screams as he’s thrown down onto Steve’s bed. “Fuck you! I’m leaving and I don’t want your money!”

“Stop it,” Steve orders, his voice softer but authoritative. “You are not leaving. You are sleeping in here tonight until that glass can be cleaned up tomorrow.”

Steve reaches then for the kid’s sweatshirt, pulling it up over his head, before reaching for the button on the kid’s jeans. Having pulled those off, leaving Chris is just a tshirt and boxers, Steve unbuttons his own pants.

“What? Now you want to fuck? Want one last ride?” Chris sneers at him as Steve pushes down his pants. “Fine, let’s go,” Chris says as he lies back on the bed, spreading his legs wide, the picture obscene even though he’s still wearing boxers.

Steve pulls off his tshirt, leaving himself in just boxers and he pushes Chris’s legs out of the way. “Stop it. Move over.”

Sullenly, Chris moves to the other side of the bed and lies on top of the comforter so Steve has to push and pull him to get the covers out and Chris underneath them. But Steve doesn’t stop there, he continues to manhandle Chris’s smaller body til they’re lying pressed together, him on his back holding Chris face down on his chest, one hand on the back of Chris’s neck and the other low on Chris’s back.

Chris puts his hands on Steve’s bare chest trying to push away, but two decent meals aren’t enough for Chris to be stronger. Huffing and unwilling to give up, Chris rests and then pushes again.

“Hey,” Steve says strongly, getting Chris’s attention. “You’re not going anywhere, baby. We’re going to sleep, ok?” With one thumb, Steve strokes the skin below Chris’s hair line.

With a sound like a sob, Chris gives up, goes limp on top of Steve’s chest. Steve keeps up the stroking, carding his fingers through Chris’s hair the longer the kid stays relaxed. Fuck, he knew better than to tell Chris he had no idea what he’s doing or why. This kid has been trying to take care of himself when someone should have been taking care of him. And now Chris is hoping that Steve will take care of him. And Steve wants to, so he just needs to be in control, or at least pretend to be.

Eventually Chris snuggles closer, content in the safety of Steve’s arms and then he falls asleep. Steve stays awake for a while, just holding on.

Steve wakes up to a strange sensation, wet and tickling on his chest. He gasps as the skin of his pec is nipped by sharp teeth, opening his eyes to see Chris kneeling on top of him naked again. Chris looks up, eyes mischievous before his mouth goes back to his exploration of Steve’s chest, tentative like Chris has never explored a lover’s body before.

He should probably stop this but Steve can’t stop Chris from finally exploring his sexuality, from finally choosing. Not that Steve wants it to stop. But Chris is making his way back up, up to Steve mouth. Steve opens lets Chris in, small tentative tongue seductively flicking against his own.

Pulling back, Chris looks down at Steve and bites his already swollen bottom lip, trying to hide the smile that turns up the corners of his mouth. Chris falls to his side on the bed, pulling Steve until Steve rolls on top of the kid.

Steve has purposefully avoided this, avoided pressing the kid into the mattress, but if this is what Chris wants, he’s going to give it to the kid. Slowly he lets his weight sink down before he takes Chris’s mouth again a little rougher. Panting, Chris bucks up into him, letting Steve know he’s still on board with the proceedings.

Sitting back on his knees has Chris’s eyes widening in concern though, until Steve pulls Chris, sleep-warm and pliant onto his lap. Chris doesn’t understand when Steve pushes his knees back into his chest but gets into the program quickly when Steve’s tongue traces a wet line from Chris’s balls to his exposed hole.

Flattening his tongue at first, Steve simply rubs it over the surface of Chris’s hole first as the kid moans and twists the material of the pillow under his head. Then he’s flicking his pointed tongue over the wrinkled surface, Chris thrashing and practically screaming. Steve knew the kid would like this from the way he reacted to Steve fingering him last night.

Steve runs the edges of his teeth over the hole, closing his lips over it and sucking hard, stabs his tongue, wriggling it slowly inside as Chris gets more aroused and wet. Chris’s hands now squeeze Steve’s thighs, his head still moving from side to side on the pillow and the sounds, eager and plaintive and overwhelmed, wrecked and needy.

Running his tongue up Chris’s hairless perineum, Steve can’t help but stop and suck one ball into his wet mouth, then the other. But he bypasses Chris’s cock completely as he reaches towards the bedside table for lube and a condom. Chris is pretty much incoherent, simply mewling at the loss of contact, reaching for his own cock only to have Steve’s hand bat it away.

He stretches Chris first, one then two fingers scissoring then three. Still when he presses inside, it’s tighter than the night before, almost too tight and he glances down at Chris nervously. But Chris is still moaning, panting, pulling Steve down like he wants to be pressed into the mattress, fucked through the mattress.

So Steve obliges, pressing his weight down on Chris as he starts thrusting, hard and fast, pushing Chris’s thighs back into his chest again. Soon his tongue is back in that hot mouth, only for a taste because they both need to breathe.

“Fuck, baby,” Steve moans, the endearment slipping out again. He pushes up a little to reach for Chris’s thick cock, purple as it drools against Chris’s belly. Chris’s smaller hand joins his a second later and then Chris is arching up, coming and clenching and crying out as Steve thrusts harder, hitting Chris’s prostate just how Chris liked last night.

Increasing his speed has Steve clenching his eyes shut as his own orgasm rises up over him. “Enh...fuck, fuck,” he moans.

Exhausted, Steve still manages to tentatively let his weight down on Chris for a second, but he’s rewarded with Chris’s hands wrapping around his upper back, holding him close.

Yeah, so trying to not fuck Chris is definitely not working. He may need a new plan.


End file.
